


i just ride

by reedyas



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, prostitute/client au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedyas/pseuds/reedyas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this to deal with my grief over the horrible midseason finale. Feedback is always appreciated.</p><p>I guess the soundtrack for this is Lana Del Rey's <i>Paradise</i> EP. </p><p>Hang in there Bethylers, I do believe the worst is over. xoxoxoxo</p>
    </blockquote>





	i just ride

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to deal with my grief over the horrible midseason finale. Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> I guess the soundtrack for this is Lana Del Rey's _Paradise_ EP. 
> 
> Hang in there Bethylers, I do believe the worst is over. xoxoxoxo

_I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer._

Beth rests her forearms on the rusty iron balcony gate, closing her eyes and letting the setting sun warm her face. The grimy two story hourly motel’s sign flickers on with the headlights along the highway. She shifts her weight from the ball of one foot to the other, bringing a hand up to run her fingers through her wild blonde hair.

She’d never envisioned her life would turn out this way. Never thought that after her daddy died when she was 18, her sister would become so self-absorbed and split, leaving her alone just a year after her suicide attempt. She had always pictured herself opening for a star in some fancy venue in New Orleans or Atlanta, singing in front of hundreds of fans. She’d always wanted to see her name in lights, illuminating the night sky like one big stellar being.

There was a certain comfort in not knowing where you were going to end up or lie your head that night. Beth felt safe more often than not in the arms of the men that would use her body. Growing up, she was taught that men who used prostitutes were dirty and perverted, and granted some were, but most of them were just lonely. 

She’d been to all sorts of cities and towns in the last three years; the farthest being Reno one spring when she was 19. She always ended up back in Georgia though, of all places.  
She always had someone waiting for her in this part of Georgia. His name was Daryl, and he was very quiet. His muscled arms, wide freckled shoulders, and tendencies for picking fights made her wary of him at first, but drawn to him at the same time. She’d never been able to feel this way about a client, and she could tell he had an attachment to her from the first time they spoke. 

For months, he had only paid enough to fuck her hard in the bathroom stall of a dive bar, one large hand shoved down the front of her panties while he thrust into her, the other steadying himself against the tiled wall. She’d kiss his cheek and he’d hand her a couple of twenties and they would go their separate ways.

One night in July, finally he had timidly asked her to come to a motel with him. Usually, she would refuse. She had heard horror stories from girls who lived on the road like her, and she had never taken that chance before. But his eyes were vulnerable and honest and open, steeling himself for rejection, and something in her gut told her that he would never hurt her, at least not intentionally. 

He’d found her again that afternoon outside of a gas station just a block down from the truck stop where she had been let off by a greasy yet kind-hearted, lonely trucker who wanted company on his trip to Nashville and back. He had asked her, “You free tonight?” in a gruff voice in the aisle with the Funyons and the Chex Mix. Beth had bit her lip and nodded, hiking her backpack that held a change of clothes and toiletries up onto her shoulder. She rode on the back of his bike and in between his wings to the motel off of Interstate 75.

She hears him enter the room, the clinking of the beer bottles he sets on the counter and the locking of the door. “Got you yer favorite,” he calls. “Didn’t have much else.”

She knows money’s tight for him, she sees it in the way his eyes widen whenever she tells him how much she charges. “Thank you, Daryl.” She turns and smiles, taking in the way he always seems to stop whatever he’s doing when he looks at her. Beth saunters right up to him, smooths his sleeveless flannel down against his chest, and grins. “You’re always so good to me.”

“Could say the same thing ‘bout you, sweetheart.”

And that’s her cue. They’ve preformed this dance many times before. Low heat begins to thrum in her belly as she places kisses along his jaw, his stubble pricking her lips. Her lips move down his neck and onto his chest, emitting a low moan from deep inside him. She unbuttons his sleeveless flannel one by one and kisses her way down his muscular pectorals and the hard planes of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft under her touch; it feels like coming home.

Beth relieves the ache in her legs when she kneels down on the cheap, gritty carpet. She swiftly pulls his leather belt through the loop and undoes the buckle, glancing up from her task to look up at him. Daryl’s eyes were wide and his lips were lightly parted.

“Drivin’ me wild, girl,” he gasps as she unbuttons his jeans, pulls the zipper down, and runs her fingers on the cotton covering his cock. She smiles and pulls him from his boxers.  


He’s warm and heavy and soft in her hand. Daryl lets out a low whine, and she looks up at him to make sure he’s okay. “Y’alright?” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the tip of his cock lightly.

His breath hitches in his chest as she takes more of him into his mouth, tongue swirling over his salty skin. Normally, she doesn’t like preforming this act, but the noises he’s making makes it worthwhile. His erection definitely isn’t small, but he’s not intimidatingly big either. He’s just the right length so that when she takes him in all the way, she only chokes a little bit.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, running a hand through her loose blonde waves. “Ya gotta stop that.”

She pulls away from him with a low moan and a soft pop. Still kneeling, she leans back on her heels and gives him a look she’s perfected. “How do you want me, Daryl?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “On top.” He helps her up and steers her to the foot of the bed. “Strip,” he instructs, sitting on the bed then lazily stroking his cock. 

She obliges and pulls off the white threadbare crop top she’s been wearing for the past few days. She shimmies off her jean shorts, leaving her in a dainty black pushup bra and cheeksters. Beth knows she’s not the most voluptuous woman, but Daryl seems to like her slight curves well enough. Reaching around, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor. 

Daryl never breaks eye contact, not even for a second. He places his thumbs on her hips and draws her closer to him. Beth shivers when his thumbs hook on the elastic of her underwear and pull it down her legs. She steps out of the clothing and stands in front of him, completely bare. She’s comfortable naked, she has to be in this line of work. It’s only when she’s with Daryl that she feels completely vulnerable. His eyes run down her body, dancing over her small breasts, wide hips, the trimmed patch of hair nestled between her thighs, and back up again.

She straddles him, settling herself in a comfortably intimate position. She places her spread out fingers on his neck and her thumbs on his jaw, and kisses him deeply. He responds hungrily, his tongue tentatively exploring her mouth. Gasping, she pulls back, the low pull in her stomach having transformed into a full blown need for him. “You have a condom?”

Daryl nods and quickly fishes one out from his back pocket. He rips the package open, and lets her carefully roll it down his cock. Raising her eyebrow, she lightly pushes him back on the mattress. He lets out a breath as she sinks her throbbing cunt down on his rock hard erection. She takes it slow, letting herself fill up a place she never knew was empty. She wipes a light sheen of sweat off of her forehead once she has fully taken him in. Gazing down at him with hooded eyes, Beth dazedly smiles at him and begins moving her hips up and down and placing her hands on his chest for leverage. 

“Fuck, Beth,” he hisses, grabbing a hold of her hips and guiding them in a rhythm that they are both tuned to. She gasps as she finds an angle that rubs slightly against her clit and reaches deep inside of her. She’s not aware of anything else other than the man underneath her.

He sneaks a hand from her hip down to that one spot, and draws a cry from her chest. The drumming inside of her is spreading to her chest and limbs. She’s getting close, and she moans incoherently. 

In a swift move, he flips them both over, so that her back is pressed into the mattress, and he’s fucking her hard and fast. Beth comes hard with a gasp, and everything feels like it is made of an untouchable warm light. She can’t breathe, and she doesn’t want to in case of losing the ethereal thrum that paralyzes and frees her at the same time.

She can feel Daryl respond to her orgasm, as he comes with a string of curse words and a full body shiver. His arms buckle, and he ends up lying on top of her. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and inches off of her a tad, wrapping an arm around her waist and burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Later that evening, she’ll shower. They will go grab a bite to eat – her treat – at the diner across the street. Then, he’ll fuck her over the table, on the counter, or on the bed again. Then, she’ll be on the road in the morning, hitching a ride to wherever as soon as the sun comes up.

But for now, she lets herself sink into the bed, relishing in the warm weight holding her down. It has been a while since she’s let someone hold her like this. Her eyelids feel heavy and her fingers comb through his dark blonde hair.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” he asks, placing kisses along her neck.

“Yeah,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “Just tired.”

“Me too.”


End file.
